Bathroom Fortress
by Fuzzball457
Summary: Sam's sick so up goes the Bathroom Fortress. Sick!Sam and awesome!Dean. No slash, pre-series.


**Hey guys, long time no see? Sorry I haven't written anything Supernatural lately, I've been focusing on my Criminal Minds story. I won't be able to post much for about a week because I'm leaving for a Supernatural Fanfiction convention in Virginia. (Visit my profile for details if you're interested) Anyway, now I'm back with a short, fluffy little oneshot. **

**This is my second little one shot like this (sick Sam, big bro Dean) and I'm thinking of maybe making them into a little series of one-shots with similar themes. I already have ideas for a few more. What do you think?**

**Also, keep in mind that right now, as I'm writing this, it's 12:53 in the morning, so my spelling isn't great. This is un-beta'd so all mistakes are my own.**

**Enjoy!**

Bathroom Fortress

The first ray of the morning sun slipped through the white sheers covering the small window in the motel bathroom. It went unnoticed because the bathroom light was already on, not that it mattered, really, because both of the bathrooms current occupants were fast asleep.

One was a thin and lanky boy of fifteen with big brown eyes and long, floppy light brown hair which fell across his pale face. Blankets cocooned his body and his head rested softly on the shoulder of the older boy. The older boy, with green eyes and short, spiky hair, slept on, unaware of the presence on his shoulder, not that he would have minded had he known.

It was amazing how all three Winchesters could face every and any supernatural being and not flinch, yet a simple stomach bug would bring any one of them down to their knees to pay homage to the great white porcelain bowl, more commonly known as a toilet. And bring to their knees it did, well, for Sam anyway. Sam, the unlucky one who happened to catch the stomach bug this time around. It happened every year or two. One of the Winchesters would get it and get it bad. And now it was simply Sam's turn. Dean had realized this at exactly 1:18 that morning when he awoke to the sounds of Sam emptying his dinner into the toilet.

A few bottles of water, some cold washcloths, some medicine (which Dean had finally managed to get Sam to both swallow it and keep it down) a thermometer as well as a few pillows and blankets were gathered and the Bathroom Fortress was born.

The corner created by the tub and the wall and been covered with pillows and Sam, once he finally stopped dry heaving, had wrapped himself, with the help of Dean, tightly in the blankets. They had curled up together in the corner and both finally succumbed to sleep.

Dean's face scrunched up and he made a tiny noise as he slowly woke up. A few glances around was enough to remind him of the events of last night, or early that morning really. He looked over at Sam, whose cheeks were only slightly less flushed than before. He was curled into a seemingly impossible tiny ball. And at some point, whether it was later that day or in a few days, Sam's back would make its displeasure at the tiny position known.

Sam had always been both small and skinny. When Bobby once predicted to a teenage Dean that one day Sam would probably be taller than him, Dean had laughed his head off. Sam? Taller than Dean? No way. Sam was small, though Dean had to admit he was growing like a weed lately, but still…the universe wouldn't be that cruel would it? To make his little brother taller than them? Not gonna happen.

Anyway, no matter how tall or skinny or whatever Sam was, the position had to be uncomfortable. Dean moved in front of Sam and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Sammy? Come on, bud, you gotta wake up." Sam muttered something in his sleep sounding a lot like 'no school today' then continued his light snores, Sam snores as Dean called them. Dean smiled to himself before continuing. "Sam, seriously, man, come on," a few more jerks of the thin shoulder produced the results Dean was looking for.

"What's wrong?" Sam slurred without opening his eyes.

"You should go to bed." Sam's eyes flicked open for a second, but then slid back closed.

"I was sleepin'."

"In a bed, Sam."

"Why?" His eyes still remained closed and his words were still slurred and sleep-filled.

"It'll be more comfortable," Dean assured him as he attempted to untangle his brother's overly long limbs from the blankets.

"It's comfy here."

"I doubt you'll think that later when you're bitching to me about your back. Now come on, help me out, I can't drag your ass all the way there by myself." Though in reality, Dean probably would if he had to. Not that he'd ever admit it to Sam.

"Come on, up and at 'em," Dean said. When Sam's tired and slightly bloodshot eyes slid open, Dean got a good grip on Sam's waist and hauled him to his feet. Sam made some noise between a moan and a shout. A mout? Or perhaps a shoan? Dean didn't have time to ponder as Sam nearly overbalanced. "I gotcha," he said soothingly. Dean always would. He would never turn his back on Sam, no matter what the kid did. Dean probably couldn't even if he wanted to. It was ingrained into his very being.

A few shaky steps later and they were out of the bathroom. A few more and Dean deposited Sam's gangly form onto the motel bed. Sam's eyes were instantly closed, not that he'd ever been more than half awake, and he curled up into a ball. Not as tight as before though.

"Don't go to sleep yet, I'll be right back." Dean dashed back to the bathroom, hoping Sam would still be awake when he got back.

"It's comfier," Sam's sleepy voice drifted into the bathroom as Dean re-wet one of the washcloths with cold water.

"Yes that's 'cause it's a bed and not the bathroom floor," Dean said as he smiled to himself. Was he right or was he right?

"Before you go to sleep, I need you to take some of this medicine," Dean said as he dumped two of the white pills into his hand. Sam complied and downed them with a tentative sip of water.

"Try and drink a little more, I don't need you dehydrated." Sam took a few more sips then handed to plastic bottle to Dean.

"I'm sleepy."

"No shit, Sherlock," Dean said as he crawled into his own bed and flicked the TV on and muted it.

"When's Dad gonna be back?" Dean wasn't sure why Sam felt the need to know that very instant, but he replied just the same.

"Three or four days."

"Mm, kay." And with that Sam drifted off to sleep. Dean wasn't far behind.

When next he awoke, it was near lunch time. He made himself a sandwich and managed to get a half-coherent Sam to eat a small bowl of cereal. Once that was over and done, Dean plopped back down to watch some more TV as Sam drifted off.

The Winchesters didn't have the most healthy sleep patterns. Hunts were most often done at night and other nights were crammed full of research. To put it simply, the Winchesters had all learned to grab whatever sleep you could whenever you could.

Not fifteen minutes later and Dean was asleep again as well.

After a few hours of blissful sleep, Dean awoke to an all too familiar sound. He stumbled out of bed and made his way to the bathroom. When he pushed open the door, he had to shield his eyes from the harsh light, but he soon adjusted.

Sam was bent over the toilet the same as earlier. Any medicine and food from before was long gone and now only dry heaves wracked the youngest's body.

Dean knelt down next to him, same as before, and rubbed circles into his back.

Once Dean was sure Sam was done, he flushes the toliet and Sam was once again concooned and back in the corner with Dean by his side.

Another night to be spent in the Bathroom Fortress.

The End

**So what'd you think? I know it was short, but it was begging me to be written. Please review, my creativity thrives on them!**


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